


Skeleton on Fire

by courfsprouvaire



Series: Lamarque Law Firm [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Lawyer fic, M/M, it's impossible for me to not include E/R in a fic, it's like Suits but not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 20:29:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courfsprouvaire/pseuds/courfsprouvaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Courfeyrac's coffee date with Jehan doesn't go exactly as planned, a further insight into Lamarque Law Firm ends with more than a little heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skeleton on Fire

Enjolras’ fingers drummed impatiently against his desk as the sound of a dial tone echoed around his office, continuing to go on and on until he finally had enough and angrily pressed the ‘end call’ button on the phone. He sat back in his chair and ran both of his hands down his face, mentally calling Montparnasse every name under the sun, words that he would probably never utter aloud but had familiarised himself with after working alongside people like Bahorel.

He knew that Montparnasse was deliberately ignoring him, trying to postpone their meeting after not showing up the day before when they were due to get together and discuss their forthcoming trial. Enjolras had managed to convince himself that Montparnasse simply didn’t want to meet because he knew that the Monsieur Madeleine case would only end with the Lamarque Law Firm succeeding once more against the firm that Montparnasse ran, seeing as the other lawyer’s client had still to bring forward any proof that Enjolras’ man had indeed committed identity fraud.

He figured that Montparnasse was simply unable to face the fact that a pro bono law firm was steadily gaining more clients than his was once again.

Lamarque Law Firm was the only pro bono law firm in Paris, offering services to the public for a reduced fee and sometimes no fee at all, depending on the case. Dr Lamarque, the owner of the company and the closest thing that Enjolras had to a father nowadays had always been a man who wanted to spread equality to the furthest reaches of the city as much as he possibly could. He believed that all citizens should have equal rights to everything regardless of gender, sexuality, colour or religion. The only exceptions to his rule were those who didn’t uphold the responsibilities of these rights. Due to his beliefs, he began his own law firm, pro bono so he could offer services to those with little money that were unable to find help in any other firm.

Soon, Lamarque Law Firm became one of the most well known companies in Paris. Of course, sometimes they were well known for their financial struggles which often meant they were in danger of being closed down for good but Dr Lamarque still refused to make clients pay more than necessary. As long as they were in business, there would be no need for people to pay any excess and unnecessary money that would be much better in their own pockets.

Although this meant that wireless connection problems occurred every other day, the coffee machine was prone to spitting out scalding water onto someone’s hand when they were least expecting it and fancy office toys were out of the question, the company still ran on high morale and beliefs.

These beliefs still remained to act as the blood in the electronic and book crammed veins of the organisation with Enjolras acting as the heart of it, pumping the ideology of equality around the building until all employees also became a vital organ of this idea, each providing some way of allowing the mantra Dr Lamarque had dedicated his life to enforcing, to flow throughout the firm.

If Enjolras was the heart of the firm (which was ironic as there was a running joke amongst the staff that he often tended to act like he didn’t have one), then there was no doubt about it that Combeferre was the brain. He was the one drew up game plans, thought of more ideas to help others, always one step ahead of the rest of them due to his seemingly impenetrable knowledge of all topics he had needed to indulge himself into during his time as an attorney. Combeferre was a fountain of knowledge and information and the go-to guy whenever anyone needed any sort of confirmation on factual details.

The third attorney of the firm was Courfeyrac and he was the lungs that breathed life into the place. The ever optimistic and enthusiastic Courfeyrac who was often prone to near incessant hyperactivity was most definitely the one person who could keep the place going on his own. He fuelled productivity with simply a winning smile that could induce workflow a lot more effectively than a single glare from Enjolras could as that only caused flustered staff that made typos and stapled the ends of their ties to files (this was practically a daily occurrence for Bossuet). Courfeyrac was able to make people feel completely at ease in his presence, even Enjolras.

It was because of this that Enjolras purposefully set out to find the other lawyer, one hand running through his blonde hair as he attempted to track down Courfeyrac. He wasn’t seeking him out to ask outright for means of calming down but, instead, he was disguising his need for his fellow attorney to make him forget about his annoyance, directed towards Montparnasse for only a short while so he could focus on another case, with a request for a file that he knew Courfeyrac had.

Courfeyrac was, however, nowhere to be found.

Although the majority of the employees were on their lunch break at that moment, he knew that Courfeyrac always took his much later so he wasn’t hungry when he inevitably had to work late. Puzzled, Enjolras walked over to Grantaire’s desk, knowing the paralegal had already opted out of taking a lunch break given that he had waltzed in an hour late that morning.

As he neared the paralegal’s desk, a look of disdain clear on his face when he took in the slouched posture of the dark-haired man, his fingers tapping persistently on his keyboard which would give others the impression that he was working hard at his computer but, from where Enjolras was standing, all the lawyer was able to see was a seemingly intense game of Pacman.

“It looks like your private insurance report is coming along great,” Enjolras piped up, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Grantaire jumped and hastily grabbed his mouse to click off the game.

“Enjolras,” he said, spinning around in his chair, his eyes frantic and his curly hair sticking up in all directions as always, despite the obvious attempt of trying to tame it.

When it came to Grantaire, Enjolras saw him as nothing more than an appendix to the systematic operation of the firm. In his eyes, the paralegal had little purpose if any. He was unimportant and the company would get along fine without him and his drinking habits and negative attitude and his constant cynicism that caused him to insist that the organisation’s days were numbered if they didn’t begin to charge at least the rich people more than they usually did.

While some of the others had actually agreed with Grantaire on this one, Enjolras had reminded them that this supposedly ‘idealist’ attitude would not uphold Dr Lamarque’s beliefs if it was a motion they wished to put into action. While clients who came from money and were wealthy would hardly have their finances dented, Dr Lamarque wanted equality for _all,_ even the rich, and Enjolras had made it his duty to make sure that Dr Lamaqrue, now enjoying his retired life at home, would have his wishes fulfilled.

If Grantaire didn’t agree with that, Enjolras couldn’t care less. All he saw in Grantaire was nothing more than a lazy and sarcastic alcoholic who was driving himself further into the hole of disinterest he had dug for himself, throwing away all opportunity he had at embracing the small flicker of potential Enjolras sometimes saw in him. However, although Enjolras had seen this flicker a number of times, he had grown used to the way it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

“I was just... I’m nearly finished the report but—“ There was absolutely no sort of potential to be seen in Grantaire with the way he fumbled for words, making Enjolras truly wonder how he had come to the position of a paralegal when it was clear he wasn’t interested in the job. To save them both any further discomfort at having to listen to Grantaire’s excuses, Enjolras cut in.

“Where’s Courfeyrac?” he asked, his annoyance towards Montparnasse now directed towards Grantaire meaning he wasn’t actually in need of Courfeyrac anymore but his curiosity had been piqued at the man’s disappearance.

Grantaire, still looking sheepish and embarrassed, jerked a thumb towards the door. “He got a phone call and ran out.”

Enjolras frowned and looked towards the door, wondering what kind of phone call would have made Courfeyrac run out of the office. Courfeyrac was not a secretive person and all personal calls that he took were made known to everyone on their floor of the firm. He often talked loudly and obnoxiously into his phone and sometimes even put the person of the other side on loudspeaker so the conversation between them was made known to everyone.

Genuinely concerned, Enjolras pushed himself up to stand straight again from where he had been leaning on the edge of Grantaire’s desk and marched towards the door.

Had Enjolras been gifted with a greater range of hearing or had he even been mildly interested in the man sitting at his desk and staring at his retreating figure, he would have heard Grantaire mutter to himself. “Nice one, R. Disappoint him even further, you useless lump,” he mumbled before opening up a blank word document.

Already out the door, Enjolras walked down the hallway towards the elevator to look for his friend but he got as far as halfway down when he spotted Courfeyrac sitting at the window, talking quietly into it with his phone pressed to his ear. He had yet to spot Enjolras yet so the blonde took that as an incentive to walk forward until he could hear what it was Courfeyrac was saying and work out who he was talking to.

“It’s okay, I understand,” he heard Courfeyrac say, a frown appearing at the way the usually smiling man was twisting his mouth unhappily. “I know I probably came on a bit strong.”

Well, it wasn’t a surprise that Courfeyrac was apologising to someone for being forward to them but what made Enjolras frown even more was the fact that Courfeyrac sounded genuinely apologetic and wasn’t wearing the usual mischievous smile he often had plastered on his face when he uttered those exact words to anyone else.

“Just...you don’t have to act like he owns you, okay?” Courfeyrac continued. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re too good for him but I know I probably have no right to say that.”

Enjolras may have been able to listen for any longer had the elevator not reached that floor and caused a ‘ping’ to sound in the hallway, making Courfeyrac‘s head whip around and see Enjolras. His grip on the phone tightened.

“I, uh, I have to go right now,” he told the person on the other line. “I’ll see you around or...something.” He paused for a moment as the other person answered him then said a quick ‘bye’ and hung up.

He shoved his phone into the pocket of his trousers and quickly stood up, looking more flustered than Enjolras had ever seen him and it worried the blonde.

“Who was that?” he asked, tact and respect for his friend’s privacy be damned.

Courfeyrac looked like he wasn’t going to answer him for a moment, looking like he would rather just try and run past him and join Joly and Bossuet who were walking out of the elevator and back into the office. He knew that once Enjolras wanted to know something though, he wouldn’t stop trying to find out what it was Courfeyrac was hiding so instead of making up a lie or making a quick getaway, Courfeyrac leaned against the window and sighed.

“Jehan,” he replied, and then decided to elaborate upon seeing the blank look on Enjolras’ face. “Montparnasse’s secretary.”

Understanding spread over Enjolras’ face along with a hint of a grimace as he walked over to where Courfeyrac was and leaned against the wall so he was standing beside him.

“Are you two...involved? Your urgency to be near the door a few days ago when he was due to arrive now makes sense.”

Courfeyrac chuckled but shook his head. “No, we’re not ‘involved’. Montparnasse staked his claim on him.”

This only heightened Enjolras’ confusion when he thought back to the polite and smiling creature that had been in the office a few days ago, standing out among the white shirts and grey trousers with his assortment of colour in his outfit. Even Enjolras had found himself smiling when the man had shoved the file from the other company into his hand and wished them all a good day. He did not seem like to kind of person to fall for a man like Montparnasse.

Frowning, Enjolras slid both his hands into his trouser pockets. “Do you _want_ to be involved with him?” he pressed, although he wasn’t entirely sure as to why seeing as the subject of relationships was completely foreign to him. He felt like it was something he should ask Courfeyrac though.

He watched as the other man’s shoulders rose and fell once in a shrug. “I just...I’m not ideally suited to him,” he said and Enjolras was not being cruel when he did not attempt to deny this. He just wanted to let his friend finish speaking which he knew may take a while if he was in any way close to Courfeyrac.

“I mean, he’s so tiny and—and fragile and he writes poetry and wears freaking kitten sweaters and he’s the type of guy that looks like he wants commitment instead of whatever it is Montparnasse is giving him. He writes these things called haikus and I’m pretty sure Montparnasty doesn’t even know what a haiku is so he _deserves_ someone better because those things are shit tricky to write. I’m not saying he deserves me either because I’m hardly known for being the commitment kind of guy. I guess I just liked ranking myself higher than Montparnasse because _surely_ I’m not half as bad as that slimeball but apparently...” Enjolras watched as Courfeyrac sighed and ran a hand through his curls. “I asked him on a date. Well, not really a date. I just asked him out for coffee because I felt like I just wanted to lead him away from Montparnasse so I showed up at the cafe with a freaking sunflower and...he didn’t show up.”

A frustrated sigh followed Courfeyrac’s words as slumped against the wall.

“He stood you up?” Enjolras asked, quietly, trying to digest all of this information whilst wondering how he hadn’t noticed it was going on. Then again, he had been told a number of times by different people that a lot of things went unnoticed by him which did little to put his mind at rest.

Courfeyrac shook his head. “Not the phrase I would use. He said he would come but Montparnasse found out. He just told me on the phone,” he told Enjolras, lifting his phone as if to remind the other man he had been on it.

The silence that followed this was awkward as Enjolras certainly wasn’t known as the best person to go to for comfort or advice in these types of situations. Or any type of situation. He was hardly the sympathetic type.

However, he did reach forward and rest a hand on Courfeyrac’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze. “You’re better than Montparnasse any day,” he confirmed. “Don’t give up just yet.”

He ignored the way Courfeyrac’s widened almost comically at the shock of Enjolras actually saying something akin to a pep talk. He stood up straight and walked back into the main office as everyone else began to pile in and take their seats at their desks again.

Walking past Grantaire’s desk, he noticed the way the other man was typing furiously at his computer, papers surrounding him and the mere sight of it made Enjolras sigh in defeat. “Go get your lunch, Grantaire,” he said to him, causing the dark-haired man’s neck to snap up and look at him curiously, his mouth open in surprise.

Enjolras didn’t wait to see if Grantaire would take heed of his words or not and, instead, he grabbed his phone and wallet and shrugged his suit jacket back on before walking out of the office himself, paying attention to his basic human needs for once and going to the nearest coffee shop to get his lunch, Courfeyrac’s predicament still a prominent thought in his mind.

He had never seen his friend so hung up on someone before and it was strange, especially since Courfeyrac had only met this Jehan once or twice. It wasn’t something that he planned to dwell on however as he had much more important issues to focus on and as he returned to the firm about half an hour later, a second cup of coffee in hand, he planned to delve straight into his work.

What he didn’t plan on was the sight that greeted him when he opened the doors of the office and found himself looking at what could only be described as ‘utter chaos’.

Courfeyrac was sitting stony-faced on top of the receptionist desk, arms folded and his posture rigid as Musichetta sat next to him and rubbed his arm consolingly. Joly was sweating and looking like he was about to cry at any minute which he probably would have done had Bossuet not been standing with an arm wrapped firmly around his waist with Bahorel standing next to them both, cracking his knuckles and looking like he was set to murder someone. Not far away stood Feuilly, flapping one of his homemade fans in the general direction of Grantaire who was trying desperately to get him to stop, shoving his arm away whenever he came close. What Enjolras noticed and was taken aback by though was the state of Grantaire’s shirt sleeve, torn and...burnt?

Suddenly Feuilly’s urgent fanning made a lot more sense.

Walking past the scattered papers and the upturned chairs and dodging the fallen water dispenser, Enjolras reached Combeferre who looked like he was in dire need of a coffee. Or something stronger.

“What the hell happened?” Enjolras asked, his voice low and almost hesitant as if he didn’t actually want to know what had went on in the office while he had been on his lunch break.

Combeferre turned to him, a hand running through his hair as he relayed the events of the past half hour. “Not long after you left, Montparnasse showed up. He made some excuse about dropping off more files but he was only interested in seeing Courfeyrac. Courf won’t say what it was they were speaking about but his face has been stuck like that since the guy left. When he did leave...”

Combeferre paused, causing Enjolras to raise an eyebrow and gesture for him to continue.

“He thought it would be funny to pull out a lighter over at the wastebin,” he sighed.

Enjolras choked on his coffee. “He what!?” he spluttered.

“Luckily, Grantaire saw him and kind of...wrestled him to the ground before anything could happen but his sleeve got caught on fire which explains the water dispenser and the...fanning,” Combeferre finished.

Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire who was looking more disgruntled by the minute, insisting that he was _fine_ and Feuilly should stop fussing over him. He caught Enjolras’ eye and immediately looked away.

“So, he actually—“

Enjolras was cut off by the sound of the office door opening and turned around to see a very startled and guilty looking Jehan standing there, his face the colour of his red sweater.

“I, uh... I...” he trailed off, his eyes searching around the room until they rested on Courfeyrac, the colour on his face now deepening.

Enjolras didn’t miss the way Courfeyrac immediately straighten up and watched as his facial expression turned from one of anger to one of surprise.

“Jehan?” he asked, drawing the attention of everyone in the office, even Feuilly who was distracted for long enough to allow Grantaire to slip away back to his desk.

“I heard what happened,” Jehan said in a small voice. “I’m so _so_ sorry about that. I had no idea he’d actually come over here and...”

At the sound of Jehan’s voice growing unnaturally high, Courfeyrac jumped off the desk he was sitting on and made his way over the other man, stopping in front of him and pausing, looking like he was unsure of what it was he was going to say.

“It’s okay. No one got hurt,” Courfeyrac assured him.

At this, Enjolras found himself looking at Grantaire as it was clear that not everyone had gotten away unscathed from this incident, but Grantaire’s face was impassive as he just sat and watched intently as the two interacted.

“D-do you have time to...” Jehan didn’t finish his sentence but everyone watching knew what he was asking.

Courfeyrac turned to Enjolras. “I’m going to take my lunch break now,” he informed him, a smile beginning to form on his face.

Before he could allow himself to object, Enjolras simply nodded, giving Courfeyrac a knowing look which wasn’t exactly a look that graced his face often but was more than appropriate for the situation.

Grabbing his jacket, Courfeyrac lead Jehan out of the office, a hand on the small of the other man’s back.

As soon as the door closed, the silence that had been in the office ceased to exist as employees began muttering to each other about what had just happened with Bahorel being the loudest out of everyone as he asked Feuilly, “Is Courf away to get some?”

Sighing, Enjolras silently prayed for one day to go smoothly. Just one day. That’s all he was asking for.

As he made his way back to his office, leaving the task of cleaning up to everyone else and deciding to deal with Montparnasse’s psychotic behaviour another day, he passed Grantaire’s desk on his way. He wasn’t sure what it was that possessed him to stop beside it but he did so anyway, standing there silently until Grantaire caught onto him being there and turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised as if he wasn’t expecting him to be there.

“Are you okay?” Enjolras asked him, resisting the urge to wince when Grantaire’s eyebrows basically receded into his hairline. Surely he wasn’t _that_ cold that when he checked up on an employee, it was a shock for them.

“Um, I’m fine...” Grantaire said unsurely, not quite understanding what it was Enjolras was getting at until the attorney sighed exasperatedly and pointed to his torn shirt sleeve.

“That was—it was brave what you done, okay? If you hadn’t intervened, things could have gotten a lot worse,” the blonde managed to say. “So thank you.”

He walked away at that, Grantaire’s wide eyes and stunned expression making him feel more than a little uncomfortable.

He was uncomfortable because it had finally occurred to him that he was wrong about Grantaire, wrong about his position in the firm and wrong about how dedicated he was to it. The guilt he felt was something completely new and forced him to rethink his evaluation of the paralegal.

Grantaire wasn’t an appendix. He was much more vital to the structure of the organisation than that. He was, ironically enough, the liver. The incident today only proved that the office wouldn’t be able to function without him being there. The irony of that was that the liver of a body could easily be destroyed by alcohol, causing it to cease functioning properly much like Grantaire’s actual relationship with spirits and booze. They were what stopped him from working like he should.

Yet when Enjolras finally sat down at his desk and picked up the piece of paper that was sitting there, realising that it was the private insurance report he had asked Grantaire to type up, he realised that he could appreciate how hard the liver of the firm was functioning for now.

Only because he was too tired to feel anything other than exhaustion right then, of course.


End file.
